
©klaboma ZnicQ anb Singles 




iTTzL^u^-u^J-^- '^yu^ /c 



Sketches 

hy 

Joe DeYong 



FOLEY RAILWAY PRINTING CO. 
Parsons, Kansas, 1913 






Copyright 1913 by Fred B. Woodard 



JAN 271^; 14 

©Ci.A363340 



FOREWORD BY MR. RATLINGOURD 

In preparing my part of this delightful little volume I 
was, on account of associations and circumstances, induced 
to colaborate with Mr. Sour John . 

Of course, I realize that the gentle reader will find much 
that is dry and uninteresting in his tales, and should there 
be anything that appears bright or witty, there is 
always the uncertainty of it being original. 

It would, therefore, be unfair to the reader and myself 
if I did not disclaim all responsibility for the truth of any 
of the tales he has seen ^t to tell, yet, if truth is enough 
stranger than fiction, they are, perhaps, true. 

As to the part contributed by the writer ,it is, perhaps, 
unnecessary to say that it stands out prominently like an 
applicant for an Oklahoma post office, who has no opposition 

Mr. Ratlingourd, 
Dewey, Oklahoma, 

October First, Nineteen Hundred and Thirteen 



Page Three 



FOREWORD BY MR. SOURJOHN. 

Why we should have been induced to allow the per- 
fectly good tales told herein to be mixed with such an amal- 
gamation of illegal jingles is more than we are at this time 
able to explain. That,without exception,the alleged jingles 
are a libel on all rhymsters that ever lived, is apparent at a 
glance, that the perpetrator has questioned the truth of 
some of the tales so well and so accurately told herein shows 
the inconsistency of his position. However, as our char- 
acter is above reproach we refuse to substantiate any state- 
ment made herein, or to be sworn to its correctness. 

We are willing to say, however, that the jingles by Mr. 
Ratlingourd are all original for the reason that after a care- 
ful reading of all the second class rhymsters we find nothing 
nearly so bad. 

Mr. Sourjohn. 

Dewey, Oklahoma, 

October First, Nineteen Hundred and Thirteen 



Page Four 



If these are poems, 

make the most of them. 



Page Five 



DEWEY 




On the bloomin' big prairies 
Where the smoke aint and fresh air is : 
Out where the sun shines clear; 
Out from stuffy rooms and dingy, 
Where old nature isn't stingy 
With the atmosphere. 



Page Six 



BARTLESVILLE ITEM 

Our esteemed former fellow townsman Mr. John Walk- 
ingstick, than whom no more elegant gentleman exists, on 
his recent trip to the capitol city, being alone one evening 
dropped into a prominent play-house,and thinking to see 
one of the kind of amusements that Judge Graver so much 
admires, he asked for, and obtained, a seat near the front. 

The seat assigned him was near the outside aisle, and 
the entertainment being really a grand opera, "the Presid- 
ent had graced the piece with his presence," as the County 
Journalists say. John not thinking of the President, but 
only of himself as a Bartlesville booster, failed to notice that 
the Wilson box was removed from his seat by only a few feet. 

The entrance of the President and John was by acci- 
dent exactly simultaneous, and as the band played "God 
save the King, "and everyone arose, John thought it no more 
than courteous to make a few brief remarks. He had got 
to where he was saying, that although, he now lived in Bar- 
tlesville he was originally from Dewey, when the enthusiasm 
of the audience made further speech impossible, and John 
for the first time noticed the President. 



Page Seven 




N///.:jg^i.,X^pL^^ 



SPRING 

When the green conies back to the meadows, 
And the violets start to bloom, 
When the red bud trees are in blossom, 
And the dog-wood sweet with perfume. 

When the sun fish season opens. 
And you're up at break of day; 
When its time to start to plowin ; 
When the hens begin to lay. 

*When you take your old straw hat down 
From the nail behind the door. 
And replace it with the beaver 
That hung there the year before. 

When the clothes you are wearing seem heavy ; 
When you want to get out and sing ; 
When the horses and mules start to sheddin, 
Its a definite sign of spring. 

*I think this entire verse was stolen from some one, but I don't know 
who, nor do I know why. 

Mr. Ratlingourd. 
Page Eight 



THE WINNER 

Knight of the rope and saddle 
Day of his golden days, 
Winning the grins of the pealers 
Winning the ladies praise. 




Page Nine 



WHISKEY PETE. 




It was only by a 
rare piece of good 
luck that the subject 
matter of this little 
tale ever lived to re- 
ceive more than the 
ordinary notice ac- 
corded the average 
of his kind. 

It happened like 
this, I had been away 
from home until a 
late train and, some 
one unthoughted ly 
closed the barn door 
before Banty, who, 
by the way, was not 
a Banty, but an un- 
dersized little brown 
hen, with a motherly 
look that made you 
think of a little old 
fashioned grandma, 
had gotten in with 
her eleven, three weeks old brood, and Banty, doing 
the next best thing, gathered them as near under her 
wings as she could, and with such shelter as a friendly bush, 
some little distance from the door, would give, was fairly 
comfortable until it set in to raining one of thse cold 
March rains that turned to sleet by morning. 

I found her sitting by the barn door in the morning 
with six very cold, wet and stiff little chickens partly under 
her, and she herself almost dead. I immediately gathered 
her, and such of her brood as were left, up, and on an old 
blanket back of the warm kitchen stove they were soon all 
right. I saw the other little fellows laying in the water and 
sleet with no sign of life in any of them, and the day grow- 
ing colder. On my second trip to the barn, however, I saw 
one little fellow make the weakest kind of a little gasp. I 
picked him up and found the sleet had almost covered him 
He had been laying in the mud and water, but was still 
t^' ^ ^^^^ ^^"^ ^" ^"^ ^^^^ ^^^ down on the rug in front 
of the open fire place, expecting that he would die before 
he got warm, but upon his showing signs of life I took his 
case in charge personally; first I got a teaspoon and filled 
It one-half full of warm water and whiskey, opened his 
beak and poured it down. In about an hour I repeated the 
the dose, and in a few minutes was rewarded by hearing 

Page Ten 



a good loud squack. In the course of the day he held up 
his head and swallowed some soft bread and another 
toddy. 

He seemed to be feeling very well, although his eyes 
had the look of one who had taken a drop too much. He 
did not attempt to stand, but sat awkwardly on his haun- 
ches with his feet stretched out in front. During the 
night he made so much noise in his drunken slumber that 
I was forced to get up and feed him, and give him a little 
more toddy to sober up on. When I would pour the whis- 
key in the spoon he would turn his head to one side and 
look at me with the expression of a Kentucky Colonel watch- 
ing a Maine bartender mix a mint julip. When I reached 
down to give him the drink he would open his mouth like 
a week old robin and when he had drank the last drop 
would hang on to the spoon. 

Pete at this time was of an age when his looks were all 
against him: He had about enough feathers to have half 
covered him if they had been properly distributed, but 
they were on him in bunches, and the spots that were with- 
out feathers were ready for the skillet. His general 
appearance, sitting on his haunches, blinking at the fire 
and calling upon everyone that came in the room to give 
him more whiskey, was about as disgraceful a performance 
as I ever saw pulled off by a chicken. We tolerated him in 
the house for a few days, but as soon as the weather was 
at all fit we tried to induce Pete to walk to the barn. He 
apparently had the use of his ankles and feet, but his knees 
would only bend with difficulty, yet, after a day or two of 
practice he got so he could walk around a little. He gener- 
ally fell over, however, before going far and would apparently 
give up trying to use his legs, and set upon his haunches 
with the most abject look on his face that it is possible to 
conceive. He got remarkably fat in a short time,but had 
no use of himself. 

The proper end of a character like Pete after he got 
in this condition would have been, perhaps, a chicken pie, 
but the God of Shanghai's apparently had an eye upon 
him, and all summer long when rations got short ,or the 
variety was insufficient at the barn, Pete had only to come 
staggering up the walk to get all he wanted from the first 
one to see him. The stiffening in his knees never left him, 
and after he was two years old he took on the appearance 
of the typical Kentucky Colonel ; His feathers were fine and 
glossy; he held his head about six inches higher than any 
rooster I ever saw; his comb was the envy of every rooster 
in the neighborhood, though it must be admitted that it 
was extremely red and slightly swollen just over his bill. 

On account of his awkward appearance, some of the 
neighboring Shanghai, and other breeds of roosters, conceivd 
the idea that Pete would be remarkably easy to clean up, 

Page Eleven 



but when they retired from the various fields of honor, in 
which they engaged him, they left Pete stalking uncer- 
tainly, but majestically around, and doing all the crowing. 
I witnessed one of the encounters. The enemy came at 
him with his head down, his feathers and wings straight out, 
making a very formidable appearance. Pete never moved 
until the rooster was within striking distance, then he 
lifted up one stiff leg and struck him on the side of the 
head like the kick of a left handed, wooden legged man, 
after which, Mr. Rooster took no more interest in what was 
going on about him. I wanted to give Pete another drink 
for that, but my wife would not stand for it. 

Pete's disappearance was remarkable. After an event- 
ful life of five years he began to some extent, show the ef- 
fect of the kind of life he had led, and one day after making 
his usual rounds, with the usual amount of grunting on 
his own account,and caressing by the children, he disap- 
peared, and within an hour from the time that he was 
known to be alive and well, he was gone, and from that day 
to this his disappearance has been a mystery. 

NOTE — I notice in reading this over that this chicken sat on his 
haunches several times. I am informed that this is the most remarkable 
thing in the whole tale. I have my own views about that and the gentle 
reader is entitled to his. Mr. Sourjohn 




Page Twelve 



DRINKING SONG 




Coffee in a tin cup, 
coffee in a tin. 

I never saw the like 
of it since I ' ve been . 

Alcoholic beverage 
is mighty thin 

Along side of red hot 
coffee in a tin. 



Oh, I have drank 
the whiskey, 

And I have drank 
the wine, 

And I have drank the 
barrels of beer 

In the good old 
summer time. 



I've drank the Tom 
& Jerry's, 

And I have drank 
the gin. 

And now I'd turn 
'em all up for 
coffee in a tin. 




Page^Thirt^en 




Coffee in a tin cup. 
Coffee in a tin. 

I never saw the like of 
it since I've been 

Alcoholic beverage is 
mighty thin 

Alongside of red hot 
coffee in a tin. 



Page Fourteen 



FALL 

There's a green grass carpet on the side of the hill, 

The graceful willow bends to the breeze, 

There's a crisp soft feeling in the October air, 

And a thousand colored leaves on the trees. 

There are leaves and leaves as yellow as the Midas gold, 

Pink perfection of Dame Nature's handiwork, 

See the white sycamore through the satin tinted boughs 

Like a vision through a harem skirt. 



Page Fifteen 




IN THE EARLY DAYS 



It was, as now, a criminal offense to bring liquor into 
this part of the country. The wise and good law makers 
could, to a certain extent ,regulate the traffic in this much 
abused article, but, unfortunately, they could not regulate 
the appetites of the average aboriginee, nor, the white man, 
who was in their midst. In the days referred to there was 
always some one willing to take the chance of being dis- 
covered in the act of violating the law to satisfy his ever 
present appetite, but the Deputy U. S. Marshall being 
abroad in the land, many and various were the ways devised 
by the lovers of the flowing boot-leg to obtain the necessary 
good, or evil, which ever side you happen to be on. Now 
when our friend Jim, the hero or the villian of this tale, 
according to your point of view, in rambling through the 
woods early one morning discovered the handle of a one- 
half gallon jug protruding from a bed of leaves by a large 
elm tree. It was with mixed emotions of dread and delight 
that he carefully uncovered the jug, pulled out the cork, 
and, with his thoroughly experienced nostrils, confirmed the 
theory that the contents was what he most desired. 

That a man would leave a perfectly good jug of 
whiskey in the woods near Bartlesville twenty years ago 
meant one of two things, either he had been closely pressed 
by Uncle Sam's men, or that he had believed the hiding 

Page^Sixteen 



place to be beyond the power of ordinary mortal to discover. 
There had recently been, however, a rumor that a man 
near Fort Smith had been poisoned by drinking a bottle 
of liquor that he had found, and,with this thought in mind, 
Jim decided that it would be best not to take the first 
drink himself, so carefully holding the jug under his coat, 
he went on to the old Bartles store, which was at this time 
the head-quarters for all business, and social events for 
forty miles in every direction. 

It happened that there was employed by Mr. Bartles 
in the store one, Lee, whose appetite for liquor was well 
known to Jim, and, as they had grown up together, and 
were good friends, Jim felt that it would be no more than 
right to allow Lee to take the first drink, so after carefully 
hiding the jug in the corner of the oflEice in the back part 
of the store he quietly walked to the front and asked Lee if 
he would like to have a drink. Lee told him, in language 
more emphatic than polite, that he had not yet gone 
crazy, and asked him where the whiskey was. Jim said, 
"It is back there in the corner of the office; go backand help 
yourself." Lee went back, took a generous swig in the man- 
ner of an old time harvest hand drinking butter milk out of 
a jug, and came back into the store. Jim watched him 
carefully to see if the whiskey killed him, and when he 
found that it had no more than the usual effect, after 
vigorously shaking the jug, he got him to take another 
drink, watched him again for a few moments, and when he 
found that his actions were perfectly natural, under the 
circumstances, he took a long comforting drink himself, 
snuggled the jug carefully under his arm and started for 
home. 




Page Seventeen 



LES MISERABLES 

If you marry a queen 

You may sit on a throne; 

In a palace that everything's rich in, 

But if you marry the cook 

Don't expect any thing, 

But that you will eat in a kitchen. 



Page Eighteen 



THE FIRST CROP 




Si lived on crackers and store Bologne 
When he first came to Oklahome ; 
Out where the soil is red and loamy, 
Where the corn and potatoes grow. 

When Si first came he was thin, but frisky, 
Yet it looked to him like farmin' was risky. 
Like you couldn't raise hell with a gallon of whisky 
On the land alloted to him. 

But whatever Si was he was not a quitter. 
Said he'd taste the sweet and swallow the bitter. 
So he hitched up his mule and one horse critter. 
And started to plow the land. 

He done his own cooking and patched his own jeans, 
With a limestone rock he seasoned his beans. 
He didn't get fat, but started out lean. 
So he figured he wasn't behind. 



Page Nineteen 



What he lived on, and fed on, he'd hardly say; 
Kind 'a roughed it through on prairie hay. 
Mixed in with the hope of a brighter day, 
And the thoughts of a girl back east. 




=SJI^. 



Well, the crop he raised on that virgin soil 
Was recompense full for his trouble and toil ; 
When he took it to market and counted the spoil 
He was way ahead of the game. 



Now there's fences and trees that set off the farm; 
A two story house and a big red barn, 
So, Si takes it easy and don't give a darn. 
For the girl from back east is the boss. 



Page Twenty 



And there's little Si that's big Si's crony; 

Makes him glad he came to Oklahome, 

And he smiles when he thinks of the store Bologne, 

And the days when he patched his jeans. 




'='3^fe 



Page Twenty-one 



FINANCIER ABORIGINEE 

It is comfortably well known by students of history 
that the system of obtaining something for nothing, or 
the life of the gentle grafter is not altogether new. It 
is however, perhaps, nearer a definite science now 
than ever before in the world's history. Yet, you will re- 
member a certain character in the scriptures, who, by a 
manipulation that would hardly be countenanced at this 
time, obtained large flocks and herds of spotted cattle. 
Later than this, but with the same prima tive instinct, a 
full-blood Cherokee Indian preacher, whose English name 
was Miller, lived for years, so runs the tale, without other 
effort than that herein enumerated. 

Back in the early seventies a white man, who was a 
tenant farmer in the Indian country, died and left no es- 
tate, or relatives with sufficient funds to afford him a de- 
cent burial. The condition was presented to an educated 
man in the neighborhood, who prepared a little petition, 
setting forth the facts, asking for a donation for the pur- 
pose of providing Christian burial for the deceased, and for 
the purpose of circulating this through the little town the 
scrivner signed his name; donated one dollar and gave it 
to this full-blood preacher to collect sufficient funds for 
the purpose indicated. The people were generally willing 
to give what they could afford, but at this time money was 
very scarce and not much used in the Indian country. 

It was afterwards ascertained that Miller collected 
about twenty dollars in the town on the strength of the 
petition given him, after which, he saddled his horse; rode 
to a town ten miles distant and again got the petition in 
circulation with satisfactory results. He neglected to re- 
port on the day of the funeral and the neighbors construct 
ed a rude box and buried the man in the best way they 
could. 

Considerable uneasiness was felt at the disappearance 
of Miller, and for some time, it was not even known that 
he had collected the money but upon investigation it was 
found that he had been to each town within forty miles 
of the place he had started from ; had solicited and collected 
enough money to have given fifty men a decent burial, and 
provided for payment of an installment for the relief of 
their immortal souls. 

The petition was not dated and for more than a year, 
in fact, until the paper became entirely worn out, this 
Indian followed the calling of collecting money to bury a 
man, "whose rattling bones were left of him alone." 

Page Twenty- two 




THE INNS AND OUTS 

If you're taking a trip as a 'Knight of the Grip', 
Or a traveler who loves to live vs^ell , 
Give ear to my song and you cannot go wrong, 
Pay attention to all that I tell. 

To get a good meal with an unholy zeal, 
Man will hunt the hotels o'er and o'er, 
And you travel you'll see, in the big I. T., 
What I tell is the truth and no more. 

Now, to begin at the Nowata Inn, 
There is comfort and plenty of cheer; 
From cellar to roof, I have positive proof. 
Everything you'll find "Albright" and clear. 

Page Twenty- three 



When to Glaremore you go, though the town's rather slow, 

You'll find Hotels galore, and no bother; 

And no matter where you stop while you're there, 

You will wish you had gone to some other. 

Once a man stopped from Dallas, at the Wagoner 

Brown Palace; 
What he told me you'll never have hint; 
His impotent rage would fill up this page, 
But such language's forbidden in print. 

At Muskogee, Wewoka, Talequah or Atoka, 
They might serve you right, and might wrong. 
But Vinita, I swear, if you ever go there 
You had better take dinner along. 




NOTE— Referring to The Indian Territory in 1900 

Page Twenty-four 



THE WORST JINGLE 

When the Creator was making the Earth, 

And forming his plans for the weather, 

Where west Texas is, he saw a great hole; 

It was too far away to fill up with coal, 

But something must hold the Earth together. 

He looked over Earth and Heaven for land. 

But he'd used all the dirt, and most of the sand; 

Then he heard Hell was finished, and Satan'd 

Refused a lot of matrial he couldn't use, 

So he borrowed the stuff and finished the state. 

And it is just like he left it, 'tis sad to relate. 




■^^ 



Page Twenty-five 




Yes, I reckon the Country's improvin', 

There's more people, more courts and more crime. 

But it seems to me kind a amusin' 

To think about that other time, 

When the cattle browsed round on the prairie, 

And there's nothing you wanted to do. 

But roll in the grass and be happy; 

When there wasn't a house in view 

The big tall grass and the cattails 

Looked purty down in the slough ; 

The blue stem, and the acres of goldenrod, 

And sumac with blood red hue. 

They'r buildin' a town on the old ranch place, 

Where the round ups used to be ; 

They've got brick streets and electric lights, 

And builden's higher'n a tree. 

My wimmen folks want to move down there, 

In a house with a blue grass yard, 

Which, countin' the walk that divides the same, 

Ain't bigger 'n a postal card. 

But I like the view of the post oak trees, 

When the frost in the fall starts to turn the leaves. 




Page Twenty-six 



ABOUT THREE DOLLARS 



In the days when this part of the World was young, 
before the days of Picture Shows, Elks Clubs, Automobile 
Parties, Golf Links, and Country Clubs, the only method 
of passing pleasantly a long rainy evening ,or the long hours 
after the work of a long, long day, was for a party, neces- 
sarily small at that time, of congenial spirits to meet toget- 
her in the room,or office of one, and, with the proper amount 
of that other congenial spirit then and now counterband, 
relate the personal experience of each other, or tell the 
tales and stories that so easily come to the surface at a 
time like this. 

In the days before many of the participants were re- 
sponsible to, or for, any one, and their evenings off, were a 
source of anxiety to none, except, perhaps, the much 
abused town marshall. 

At a time like this there gathered together in the 
rooms of one, who is now a prominent member of a higher 
Court of the State, a meeting, with the proper accessories, 
and no lack of congenial spirits of both classes above re- 
ferred to, and among the others, this tale was told. 

The narrator had formerly lived in a Kansas town on 
the river Kaw ; made famous as the home of a line of 
celebrities. 

The home of Governor Stubbs, who just missed 
being President, and will yet be, if this country gets 
the best. The home of the first Governor of Kansas, 
Charles Robinson, from whom the humble writer of these 
lines has purchased many a dozen of eggs, and pounds of 
butter, which the Governor personally brought to the 
Jones Grocery Store. The home of Senator Bower sock, 'and 
a number of celebrieties of, more or less, distinction in 
various fields of play and labor. 

Senator Bowersock, says,'the narrator "built the Opera 
house, owned the Opera house, and owned and controlled 



Page Twenty-seven 



the great flour and feed mills. The power for which was 
derived from the harnessed Kaw and transmitted by cable 
to the various factories and manufacturing plants of the 
city. The mill manager was also manager of the Opera 
house, and during the day presided at the roller top desk 
in the office of the sales division of the flour and feed mills. 
In the evening he was in the box office of the Opera house 
supplying the tickets to the "gay and festive throngs, "and 
incidentally checking up with the manager of the attrac- 
tion." 

The man who tells this tale says, "in connection with 
my employment at this time I was running a dray-line 
and had two or three teams, which were owned and cared 
for by me. As a customer of the feed mills, I was well 
known to the manager, who was a careful, if not an exacting 
collector, and to obtain credit for a sack of chop was 
something of a financial manouver, which, however, I had 
occasionally been able to do, in fact, this was the condition 
of my account on the day of the disaster, (which we are 
going to refer to before we entirely close this narrative.) 
It seems,on this day,that his attention had been called to 
the little balance amounting to three dollars altogether, 
without any satisfactory results so far as the manage- 
ment of the feed mills was concerned. 

On the evening of the day of the above occurances some 
famous player was billed to appear at the old Opera house, 
and for the benefit of those who may doubt that famous 
players would appear at this small town, I remember 
to have seen Booth and Barrett, Alexander Salvina, 
Robert Mantell, Maude Mathers, Louis James and 
others that would be worth a trip across the continent 
to see at this time. It seems that the man who contracted 
this account for feed was a lover of the drama, and while he 
could not raise the three dollars to pay for the corn chop 
he had probably fed to his dray teams, he appeared at 
the box office on this particular evening with the young lady 
of his choice, at a time when the box office rush was at it's 
heighthand presented the three dollars to the manager of 
the feed mills, now on duty in the box office, requesting 
two particular seats, which were, no doubt, the best in the 
house for the money. The manager first closed his hand 
over the three dollars and without making any move to 

Page Twenty-eight 



produce the tickets for our hero and his lady, told him, in 
the face of the congregated society who were crowding 
anxiously behind him, that he would credit him three 
dollars on what he owed for feed, and it was up to him 
to rustle another three dollars or miss seeing the show. 

It appearing useless and embarrassing to argue the 
matter, with what grace he could command he went out 
of the house and down the street to borrow the price of 
admission. 



rSf* f^ ^Sc> <iJf» 

vg* vf* i/g* a^ 



Page Twenty-nine 



EL REINA DEL CAMPO 



She makes the strongest coffee in the Nation ; 
A Doby shacks her castle on the Rhine; 
Her form is not exactly a temptation; 
She never wore a shoe of any kind. 

She doesn't play much on the grand piano; 
She's deficit some, in fact, in different ways, 
She does her hair up in a red Bandana, 
But in this camp she's certainly the craze. 

The lingo that she speaks is broken Spanish; 
The smile she smiles has oft been used before. 
But no matter if she's Mexican or Danish, 
For me she always has the open door. 

Sing the praise of the shy little maid 

From one to the other great sea. 

But the girlie that comes up and holds out her hand 

Is the one that gets money from me. 



Page Thirty 



THE BEST JINGLE 

If you ever have been broke, 

And after you got some money, 

You know how good it seems, 
To hear the jingle 
Of a silver dollar 
On another silver dollar 
In your jeans. 

To hear the jingle 

Of a silver dollar 

On another silver dollar 

In your jeans. 




Page Thirty-one 



JIM SHAW, BOWMAN, 

This is a sort of a history of the things that happened 
to an old Delaware Indian. They are in a great many res- 
pects like things that have happened to other Indians. 

In the intercourse between the Indians and the Govern- 
ment there have been a great many mistakes made on each 
side. The mistake of the Indian has generally been his 
lack of understanding of the conditions, and his failure to 
see anything good come from the many novel suggestions 
of the Government, and various associations working osten- 
sibly for his benefit. On the part of the Government it 
has generally been the lack of integrity and ability 
in the various ministerial officers,rather than in the policy 
of the Government itself. 

Too often the Indian has been exploited for the advan- 
tage of those who were advising him and acting for him 
on behalf of the Government. This has tended to develop 
a doubt among the Indians as to the Government's integ- 
rity,and only the cooler heads on both sides have prevented 
many outbreaks and the attending evils. 

Jimshaw studied over these questions, as they were 
presented to him, with varying emotions and results. 

His boyhood days had been as free and wild as that 
of his ancestors before the days of Columbus and his 
three little ships. His early manhood was devoted to the 
Government service in the capacity of a scout. It is a 
matter of history that had his suggestions been followed 
by the officers in command one or two notable massacres 
would have been avoided. The services and record he has 
made have never been recognized officially, however, and 
he draws no pension. 

He is one of the members of the Five Civilized Tribes, 
and objected to the coming of the white man. He was 
old enough to know the out-come of all Indian com- 
munities after the allotment of their land, and there were 
no things suggested to him that would equal in benefit the 
certain detriment of the assimilations of bis country by 

Page Thirty-two 



the white man. On the same theory he resisted in a quiet 
way the efforts of the white man to make the Indian Ter- 
ritory a state. He resisted also the removal of the restric- 
tions on Indian land and made such arguments as he could 
to the members of his tribe, who sold their lands for a song. 

In all, however, everyone was treated fairly by him, 
and he never appeared to have any feelings against any 
individual for the faults of a system, yet, many of his white 
neighbors, taking his mild manner and placid acquiescence 
to be a sign of weakness, tried in various ways to take advan- 
tage of him, and, as usual, with more or less success. In 
fact, after a few years of the white man 'srule,and after one 
or two outbreaks when in a more or less intoxicated state, 
Jim was deprived of the right to carry his rifle or shot gun 
away from his own home. Naturally this condition of 
affairs made him,more or less, quarrelsome with the people, 
who had placed upon him, as appeared to him, this unjust 
restriction , and the bully of the township, taking advantage 
of this condition, beat him unmercifully one day, in fact, 
would have killed him had it not been for the interference 
of other persons. 

In an investigation it developed, the thing that had an- 
gered the bully was, the fact, that Jim had driven his hogs 
out of a little crop of corn which he was trying to raise on 
his own land. He never received the benefit of the doubt, 
however, and this disturbance only added to his reputation 
of an ill-natured, quarrelsome character. 

Jim remained very quiet at home for several months 
after his whipping, but apparently he had decided to take 
matters in his own hands and see if he could not regulate 
society to, at least, protect himself from any further abuse, 
even at the risk of his own life, or the taking of that of some 
of those who had made life so bitter for him. At this time 
the fall of the year being at hand, that time when an old 
Indian, of all others,loves to be roaming about out of doors. 
Jim, who had been refused the privilege of the shooting of 
squirrels and rabbits with his rifle, had reverted to his boy- 
hood method of hunting with bow and arrow. He had 
fashioned a number of bows of hedge and bodock, which, 
with his arrows were marvels of strength and suppleness. 
He did ttot give an exhibition of his skill with the bow but 

Page Thirty-three 



to his closest friends, but, as I had had his confidence for 
many years, he took a childish delight in showing me how 
easily he could send an arrow through an apple thrown 
into the air. 

One day he had gone with his wife across the country 
to visit some Indian friends living several miles distant. 
On his return he met the bully in the road, who thinking 
his last meeting entitled him to abuse both Jim and his 
wife, began cursing them as soon as they met, for no reason 
other than to maintain a reputation as the bad man of the 
neighborhood. Jim answered him in a manner pur- 
posely intended to aggravate him, whereupon, the bully 
jumped from his horse, started at Jim with his hand up- 
raised, cursing and threatening to administer to him and 
his wife such a beating as would in the future command 
for him their respect. 

When the bully was on the horse Jim's bow was in the 
quiver over his shoulder, when he got on the ground,and was 
within five feet of Jim, he was looking squarely at the steel 
point of an arrow that would have gone entirely through his 
body if he had advanced another inch. The bully said 
afterwards, that it had been his misfortune to look into the 
blue barrel of a forty-five when he expected every moment 
would be his last, but nothing ever so completely removed 
him from all inclinatoin to mortal combat as the point 
of that arrow, and the glint in Jim's eyes as he gradually 
drew the string at a more determined and dangerous angle. 
While in this position it happened that two substantial 
farmers in the country passing along saw the situation and 
stopped without saying anything. Jim, seeing that they 
were going to remain neutral,paid no attention to them but 
kept the point of his arrow and his eye carefully trained 
on the most vital point in Mr. Bully's anatomy, who, at 
Jim's command, remounted his horse and held his hands 
up until he was out of reach, then made such haste in a 
forward direction that it gave his horse a reputation for 
speed not heretofore known. 

To the credit of the men who saw this, when questioned 
by the rowdy as to what their evidence would be in event 
of a prosecution, they stoutly denied having seen anything. 

Page Thirty-four 



The tale leaked out, however, and Mr. Bully was glad to 
leave the neighborhood. 

So great was the admiration of the old Indian's nerve 
the people gave great allowance to his peculiarities, and 
he now lives peaceably in the community and has the 
respect of confidence of all his neighbors. 



Page Thurty-five 



THE ROUND UP 



f^t.. 




When the band plays like sixty 

In the grand stand by the gate, 
And a steer from down in Dixie, 

or some southwestern state 
Steps off across the dead-line 

that is marked down on the green, 
A fellow out to win a bet 

uncoils his trusty lariet. 

You then begin to realize 
The fellow who takes down the prize 
Will do some things with horse and rope 
That you have never seen. 



Page Thirty-six 



The steer at his first scent of danger 
With backward glance observes the ranger. 
Distends his nostrils, sets his eyes, 
And in a bee-line straight he flies. 

When the loop swings clear 

from the pealer's hand, 
And the long horned steer 

feels its gently land, 
And a certain sudden motion 

lays him squarely on his back. 

The rider anxious for the "dough'* 
Soon has a careful hackamo 
Bound tightly on that long horn 
'Fore he ever makes a track. 

When the wild-eyed Bronc, just oflE the range, 

Submits to superior muscle and brain. 

And feels for the first time 

The weight of the saddle, 

Then you can gamble the very minute 

He feels the weight of the pealer in it; 

The things he'll do when he starts to unlimber 

Will be things that pealer will always remember. 



Page Thirty-seven 



A GOOD FELLOW 

He had been down the line, 

And had seen the world, 

And he knew what the world would do; 

He knew what was harmless, 

And what would hurt; 

His body had tasted the dregs and dirt, 

But his soul was pure and true. 

The world's full of folks 

That will split their last dime. 

For a friend that Dame Fortune has left; 

But here is a man. 

If he's broke, will take time. 

To go out in the world and rustle a dime, 

To give to a tramp that's bereft. 



Page Thirty-eight 



DOC ALLEN'S GONE 



Oh, who will give us calomel to cure our sluggish liver. 

Doc Allen's gone? 
And who will say "take quinine" when we have the chills 
and shiver, 

Doc Allen's gone? 
Who will be the one to meet and greet the little babies. 
And who will be a substitute to always please the ladies? 
I say there's none to take his place between this town and 
Hades, 

Now he's gone. 

Who'll treat us solemn 'fore our wives when we've been 
over-drinking. 

Now Allen' s gone? 
And never let her see him look at us a slyly winking, 

Allen's gone? 
But feels our pulse like we were dyin'. 
And when she goes out almost cryin'. 
Says, "Gut the booze or I'll stop lyin". 

Now Allen's gone. 

Who will leave the bed side of a bloated money lender. 

Now Allen's gone? 

And spend his time in caring for some poor child so tender. 

Now Allen's gone? 

Who'll sit all night in a cold hovel 

A fightin' death for some poor devil. 

Not for his fee, but that he's level. 

Now Allen's gone? 



Page Thirty-nine 



LIFE 

I may never wrest the pearls from the sea, 

Or dig the shining diamonds from the hills; 

I may never have the wealth of Carnegie, 

Or the fame of him who makes the Reachems pills. 

But memory lingering of one happy night, 

Amid a world of common place and days. 

Fills countless moments with a dear delight. 

Contented yet, I live, and sing, it pays. 




Page Forty 



